Thousands of Miles Away
by Her Clear Skies
Summary: What happens when Fletcher gets a call from Chyna one day who tells him Olive has suddenly become extremely ill? You'll have to click to find out! This is just a cute story about love and true friendship I thought up of one day and had this burst of inspiration to write. I hope you all enjoy it.


**A/N:Well it has been a while since I last posted a story on here and I had this sudden burst of inspiration. And like I promised, my last story was not my last. So here you all go! I really hope you enjoy it. It was a lot of fun to write.**

"Hello, this is Fletcher" the brown haired boy spoke into the phone, which was squeezed between his shoulder and ear as his hands were being used to paint his latest masterpiece. It was an abstract piece with many different colours sprawled onto the canvas. It was bright and happy, and while to some it would look like random splotches, to him, it reflected his current content mood.

"Hi Fletcher, it's Chyna."

"Oh hey Chyna" Fletcher responded, pausing for a moment to add more yellow paint to his wooden palette. "What number are you calling me from? My cell phone didn't recognize it." He added a few strokes of yellow paint onto the canvas and tilted his head to examine his work.

"That's the thing," Chyna responded. "I'm using the hospitals phone. I've been here since noon. Olive was admitted this morning."

Fletchers heart skipped a beat at the mention of Olive's name. It had been almost a full month since he last saw her in person. One month since he last got the chance to touch her or hug her or kiss her. She was the one who forced him to follow his dream and while he couldn't be happier for what she had done for him, being apart was harder than they thought it would be. Since they first met back in kindergarten the longest they had been separated was the length of a family vacation to Disneyworld or the one trip Fletcher took to visit family in Maine. Since Fletcher was offered to move to New York, the only kind of contact they had had was over video chat.

The first time Olive called him was two nights after she left New York with the rest of the A.N.T program. As soon as Olive saw his face over video chat she couldn't help but cry. Fletcher knew if Olive were to read her situation in a romance novel she would have made fun of the female role for being weak and so dependent on a man. But her situation was different. She wasn't apart from a man she had met on one random night at a park swinging alone on the swing set, who she fell in love with by the end of the night. No, she was apart from her best friend who met when she was just four years old and fell in love with many years later.

While they never officially broke up, they were not together either. They didn't discuss their relationship before moving apart. There was no need to. The couple shared an inseparable bond which each other that no one else could ever be apart of. Even if they were separated, the feelings they shared toward each other were not only mutual, but passionate as well.

"What did that girl do now?" Fletcher gave a small laugh. "Please tell me she didn't try rollerblading again. The last time we did that she broke her wrist and then blamed it on me every day until she got her cast taken off." Fletcher reached for a bottle of red paint.

"No, no, nothing like that" Chyna said. "Actually it's quite serious."

Fletcher dropped the opened bottle of red paint, droplets of red splashing onto his brand new shoes and the floor as he froze in place. "What?" he now grasped the phone tightly in his hand pressing it to his ear with force to be sure he didn't miss a single word.

"It's serious," the girl on the other end repeated. "Apparently Olive was complaining about a ache in her side last night but wouldn't let her parents have her checked out thinking it was just a really bad cramp but this morning she woke up screaming in pain." Chyna paused to let Fletcher absorb the new information. When he didn't respond, she continued. "Her parents rushed her to the hospital early this morning where she was immediately taken for tests then shortly after admitted."

Fletcher tried to form words but nothing came out but hard breaths. He tried to convince himself it was a joke Chyna was playing on him but the sincerity and sorrow in her voice told him otherwise. "I am here now with my family," Chyna continued. "We are in the waiting room as Olive's parents speak to the doctors. Only family is allowed inside her room at the moment."

His mind was now racing with multiple different thoughts. Olive, the girl who he had never seen choose a chocolate bar over an apple, the girl who personally brought him lunch every afternoon for a week because she felt his lunches were too unhealthy was now laying in a hospital bed hooked up to what he could only imagine to be dozens of machines. The mental image was too hard for him to handle. Without a word more he dropped the phone from his ear and ended the call. Not acknowledging the spilled paint on the floor or the accidental brush strokes across the middle of his canvas, Fletcher untied the apron from around his waist and walk out of the studio.

oOo

Fletcher didn't need to think twice about grabbing his carry on luggage out of his closet and filling it with his necessary belongings. Being an out of state teenager in one of the most prestigious art programs in the country came with many perks. One of those being the ability to leave town for a few days to visit his family in California, paid for by the program he was apart of. It was not something he was planning to take advantage of until he had gotten use to the new city and people. But now, having learned what his best friend was going through thousands of miles away, he grabbed any items of clothing he could get his hands on and threw it into the suitcase, then pushed the top closed as he zipped it up. Grapping his passport and wallet from his bedside table, he stuffed it in his pant pocket before rushing out of his small room and into the busy streets of New York.

After living in one of the top touristic cities in the United States, Fletcher had to quickly learn his way around so he would not end up lost and in the middle of no where. With nothing on his mind but his sick friend, Fletcher hopped on the subway, luggage in toe, headed for the airport.

Luckily for Fletcher, when he arrived at the airport, the check-ins were rather empty. Looking under the departures on the computer monitor, Fletcher noticed the only flight leaving for San Francisco was at four o'clock. He looked at his watch. Exactly an hour and seven minutes until the plane was suppose to be taking off. His heart beginning to race in panic, Fletcher got the name of the airline and ran toward their check-in.

"Hi," Fletcher said breathing hard as he approached the desk where a young lady with curly brown hair stood behind. "I need a ticket on the next flight out to San Francisco." He pulled out his passport and handed it to the lady.

She stared hard at Fletcher for a moment before taking the passport from his hand. "Let me see what I can do." The services agent removed the glasses from her head and put them on, beginning to scroll through the computer. "Oh I'm so sorry," the lady began, pausing for a moment to glace at Fletchers index finger tapping impatiently on the counter. "Our next flight to San Francisco leaves in a little over an hour and it is already fully booked."

Fletcher stared hard at the lady over the counter before saying, "no you don't understand. I need to be on that flight. I need to get home by tonight. It's an emergency!"

"I'm sorry," the agent shifted her glasses. "There is nothing I can do."

Fletcher stood there dumbfounded, silently pleading her to help him out. "However," she began again after a long pause. "You can purchase a ticket for tomorrows flight to San Francisco. It leaves at six in the morning. But, if you can make it to the gate before the four o'clock plane has departed and someone has not made it to their flight, you can request to be put on that one."

Fletcher dug into his pocket puling out his artist in resident issued credit card and handed it to the lady. "I'll take my chances."

Quickly, she typed Fletcher's name into the computer and printed him out a boarding pass. She handed it to him along with his passport and credit card. "When you get through security, go to gate B-six," she said. "It'll be to your right."

Fletcher grabbed the items out of the agent's hand. "Thank you," he said sincerely and headed towards security.

"Your welcome" she called after him. "Don't forget to tell the attendants and the gate your situation when you get there."

oOo

Fletcher glanced at his watch as he finished putting his shoes back on after having gone through security. The time read three twenty-five. Grabbing his carry on luggage, he listened to what the lady at the check-in told him and turned right towards gate B-six. When he arrived, first class passengers were being called on to board the aircraft. Pushing past people, Fletcher made his way to the front desk, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Good afternoon," the male station agent behind the desk greeted. "How can I help you?"

"I'm scheduled to be on tomorrows six o'clock flight to San Francisco" Fletcher said. "But I need to be put on this one. I was told it was already booked but if there is anything you can do to get me on this one, I need you to do it for me."

"What is your name?"

"Fletcher Quimby"

"Wait right here Mr. Quimby," the agent said. "If someone does not arrive to the flight on time, you will be first in line to take their seat."

Fletcher smiled with a sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Taking the seat closest to the desk, Fletcher didn't waste any time. Pulling out his cell phone, he called Chyna's number silently praying she now had her phone on her.

On the fourth ring she picked up. "Hello?"

"Hi Chyna, its Fletcher," he cleared his throat. "Sorry I hung up on you earlier. I was in shock and didn't really know what to say."

"I understand" Chyna replied.

"So how is she doing? Any updates?"

Rows twenty to thirty were called over the intercom and Fletcher looked up briefly to watch the other passengers board the plane.

"No change. The doctors now have her on powerful drugs to help relieve the pain. I got a chance to go into the room but she was sleeping when I went in. I believe her test results are still being reviewed but so far there is no diagnostics."

Fletcher glanced at his lap. He was hoping the news would be positive and that his friend would be getting prepared to leave the hospital with some minor issue where antibiotics could be used to cure. Thinking about it now, even an appendectomy would be better news than no news at all. At least then they knew what the problem was and having had his appendix out before, his worry would decrease significantly. Unfortunately, that was not the case and Fletcher was left sitting on an airport bench hoping for nothing more that some guy was stuck in traffic with no possibility of making his flight to San Francisco.

"Fletcher?" Chyna's voice brought Fletcher back to reality. "Where are you? All I can hear are people chattering in the background."

Fletcher sighed. All rows had now been called and late arrivers were now boarding. "I'm at the airport."

"Airport?" Chyna exclaimed before Fletcher got the chance to explain. "What are you doing there? Are you coming home? What time do you arrive?"

"I'm trying to come home. My flight is not supposed to leave until tomorrow morning but I'm trying to get on this earlier flight. It is suppose to be on the runway in-" Fletcher glanced at the clock above the gate number and his leg immediately started to shake when he realized the time. "Fifteen minuets."

"Fletcher Quimby" a deep voice called from behind the desk.

"Chyna" Fletcher started. "I have to go but can you do me a favour?"

"Anything."

"If she wakes up and you get to talk with her before I arrive, can you tell her that I love her and I'm doing everything I can to get home."

He couldn't see it, but he knew Chyna was smiling on the receiving end of the phone. "Of course. I hope all works out and I will see you soon."

They ended their call and Fletcher walked toward the front desk, holding his breath, hoping for the best possible news.

"Mr. Quimby, we are currently waiting on one passenger. If that person does not arrive in the next five minuets, the seat is yours." Fletcher nodded understanding.

Anxiously waiting, Fletcher stared ahead hoping that no person walking by would turn toward his gate. His foot tapped rigorously as he watched every person who walked by with fear that they would turn toward him. One gentleman wearing a black fedora and rolling a rather large carry-on stopped just before his gate, stared at the gate number for a second, before looking at the ticket in his hand, shaking his head and carrying on. Fletcher let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He looked at his watch. One minute down, four more to go.

Suddenly there was a female voice over the intercom. "Mister Fredrick Allen we are in final boarding at gate B-six on route to San Francisco. Please head to your gate immediately as the doors will be shutting in four minutes. Once again, this call is for mister Fredrick Allen at gate B-six on route to San Francisco."

Fletcher winced at the voice over the intercom. He could just imagine some middle-aged businessman wearing a brown suit and carrying a briefcase hurrying to put his loafers back on as he heard his named being called. Fletcher could only hope this was not the case.

After some time had passed, Fletcher glanced at his watch again. It read three forty-nine. No one had claimed to be Fredrick Allen and Fletcher was now beginning to believe his luck was changing.

Once again, a female voice came on the intercom. "This is the last call for Mister Fredrick Allen. The doors will be closing in one minute. Please head to your gate immediately."

Fletcher was now confident that he would be a passenger on the next flight out to San Francisco. He grabbed the handle of his carry on and walked toward the entrance of the gate where the guy he first talked to now stood. He motioned for Fletcher to hold on and he anxiously did so. He glanced at his watch again and couldn't contain his smile when he noticed the big hand had approached the ten.

The flight attendant took Fletchers boarding ticket out of his hand and puled out a black sharpie. After he wrote on it, and handed it back to him, Fletcher noticed he had changed his previous six o'clock time to four o'clock. "I guess today's your lucky day" the attendant said. "This is not usually a normal thing to happen."

"I guess so," Fletcher said smiling.

"Go right on ahead now. You have been place in seat nineteen D."

Fletcher had to resist the urge to hug the man. Instead, he responded with a thank you and releasing a long sign of relief, made his way down the tunnel and onto the aircraft.

 **A/N: This is not how the story ends! I have a lot more planned for it. If you would like to read more, the next chapter is already half written. If I get enough reviews and people seem to be enjoying it and want me to continue, I'll finish the next chapter and have it posted as soon as possible. So voice your opinion and let me know if I should continue or not.**

 **Lets say 20 positive reviews and I'll post the next chapter? I usually only do this with shows that have ended that way it lets me know people are still interested.**

 **Have a wonderful week.**


End file.
